


Taking Care of Business

by Heiwako



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Humor, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heiwako/pseuds/Heiwako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is inspired by a Skyrim Kink Meme.</p><p>Mercer Frey and Maven Black-Briar are the two most dangerous people in Riften. Of course the two of them need to sleep together. And it's not going to be simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Skyrim Kink Meme. Mercer is outraged when he discovers that Maven has raised her percent of the cut she takes from the Thieves Guild and will do anything to get her to rescind. Anything. 
> 
> Heavily inspired by "How I Met Your Mother" S2.6
> 
> That episode made me think that's how Maven and Mercer would act if they slept together.

Part 1: How to Hunt a Sabre Cat

It was another typical day in the Cistern. Thieves were lounging around, either waiting for it to get dark enough to go on a job, resting from returning from a job, or trying to fence their illegitimate goods. Brynjolf was walking quickly past the members, ignoring them instead of his usual good-natured banter. The redhead was focused on talking to Mercer Frey as soon as possible. 

"Mercer," Brynjolf said as a way of greeting when he got to the Guildmaster's desk. "I need to talk to you about Maven Black-Briar." 

"Maven can go fuck herself," Mercer snorted, not bothering to look up from his ledgers. "I have enough to do without bothering with her." 

"It might be a blessing if she did," Brynjolf said bitterly. "That woman just sent an invoice down here saying that she is going to increase her cut of our profits to fifty percent." 

"WHAT?!" Mercer exclaimed, finally looking up. Rage painted his face. "Her cut has always been ten percent." 

"I know, boss," Brynjolf said, stepping back with his hands held up in a defensive pose. "She says that she's pulling more weight than us and that the extra effort comes with a cost. Since she's doing equal work as us, then she demands equal pay." 

"Damn that woman," Mercer growled as he curled his hand into a fist. "She's got the jarl in her pocket too. We cannot just ignore this. We have to renegotiate otherwise things will get messy." The Guildmaster nodded as he came to a decision. "Fine, I'll accept your challenge. I'll bed Maven so she'll be in a better mood when you meet her to convince her to reduce her take." 

"I didn't challenge you to have sex with..." 

"The sabre cat hunt begins!" Mercer declared as he left the Cistern. 

 

*Later at the Bee and Barb* 

Mercer and Brynjolf had seated themselves at a table a discrete distance away from Maven who was preoccupied with a pile of papers. 

"Oh, she's a sabre cat all right. A prime specimen. See you can identify a sabre cat by a few key characteristics," Mercer smirked. 

"What do you mean by a sabre cat?" Brynjolf asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Maven scared him and if Mercer knew what was best for him, he would be scared of her too. Not only did she have connections to the jarl, it was loudly whispered that she had ties with the Brotherhood and was not scared to use them. 

"An older woman who is still attractive and feeds upon younger men for their sexual appetites," Mercer explained. 

"Mercer, you're in your fifties, just like Maven," Brynjolf interjected. 

"Quiet, Brynjolf!" Mercer said, holding up his hand. "I was educating you about sabre cats. Anyway, you can tell a sabre cat by certain qualities." 

The two men looked over at Maven who was methodically sorting her pile of papers with a concentrated frown on her face. 

"First, you can tell by her hairstyle," Mercer said. "Sabre cats keep up the current style to fool their prey. They may not realize that they've engaged a sabre cat until she's dragged them back to her lair." Brynjolf did have to admit that Maven's braided style suited her very well. 

"Second is her style of dress," Mercer continued. "A sabre cat dresses to distract her prey." He pointed to how Maven's dress was cut lower than usual for Nord fashion. A piece of paper fell to the ground. As Maven leaned over to pick it up, Brynjolf could get a good view of her chest. "The cougar displays maximum cleavage possible to captivate her prey. You're watching them bounce, she's about to pounce." 

"Finally, observe the claws," Mercer said as he leaned back taking a huge gulp of his mead. 

Maven was messing with her hair, so Brynjolf could see her blood red nails flashing in the candlelight. 

"Long and sharp to ward off rival females. Yep, this one is a beaut," Mercer smirked. "Let the hunt begin." 

"Now wait a minute, Mercer," Brynjolf grabbed his guildmaster's arm as the man started to stand. "I'm not really comfortable with you hunting our matron." 

"Who would you rather have at that negotiating table?" Mercer sneered. "A savage, man-eating plains cat, or a purring, satisfied kitty?" 

Brynjolf closed his eyes and nodded. "Go, Mercer. Go mount and stuff that sabre cat." 

As the Thieves' Guildmaster approached the most powerful woman in the entire Rift, Brynjolf made his exit. He wasn't sure he wanted to witness what was going to happen next. 

Mercer smoothed his hair back as he approached the Meadery owner. He had done his fair share of seduction over the years, so this should be a simple job. Sweeten up the woman, have a night of sex, and then back to business as usual. Better not use too much of the charm though. He wouldn't want the poor woman craving more. It would be just degrading. 

"Why, if it isn't Maven Black-Briar?" Mercer said, cheerfully. He didn't normally do cheerful, but sometimes you had to take an arrow for the team. "Don't you look lovely today?" 

"Tell me what you want and get out, Mercer," Maven snapped, barely looking up from her papers. Hm, maybe this was how his crew felt when he did that. 

"Direct, that's something I've always liked about you, Maven," Mercer grinned as he leaned against the table. "Well, if you must know. I want you." 

Maven stopped looking at her papers and directed her gaze at Mercer. One finely plucked eyebrow rose as she contemplated the seriousness of his offer. "Turn around," she commanded. 

When Mercer turned, he noticed that Maven was looking over his body. She seemed especially pleased with his ass. Mercer smirked. He did keep a mean figure even if he was in his fifties as Brynjolf had made sure to point out. 

"My house, two hours," Maven said. "Don't be tardy." 

 

*Black-Briar Lodge, two hours later* 

"I have an appointment," Mercer said disdainfully to the house guards. They looked like stupid typical minions  low in intelligence and ambition. Meaning they were totally replaceable. 

"Aye," one of them said. "She said you'd be here. Ms. Maven is upstairs waiting for you." 

This was going to go easier than expected. Mercer strutted into the large house, switching the bouquet of red mountain flowers from one hand to another. He had purchased them earlier. Bitches loved flowers. 

Mercer ascended the stairs, mentally filing away all of the expensive looking décor in the house. The Guild would never rob Maven, she was one of theirs if only as an honorary member, but it was good to know what was where. You never knew when you might need a quick pinch and Maven was probably the richest private citizen this side of the Civil War. 

The door to the master bedroom was open, revealing a large bed. Half the Guild could probably sleep on it and still have room left over.  Mercer discretely closed the door behind him as he glanced around. 

"Maven?" Mercer called. "I'm here." 

The older woman emerged from a side room wearing only a bed robe. It was made of fine quality satin and clung to her body like water. The deep red suited her perfectly. 

"These are for you," Mercer said with a half-bow as he presented the flowers to the Black-Briar matron. He presented his most charming smile that had made young women melt in the past. 

"Hm, very nice," Maven said, barely glancing at the bouquet. She tossed them casually on a nightstand. Mercer tried his best to not wince. Those damn flowers had been expensive! 

Maven grabbed Mercer by the shoulders and pushed him backwards so he was sprawled on the bed spread eagle. She loosened her robe to reveal breasts that were still firm despite her age. As the robe fell to the ground, she climbed onto the bed and straddled Mercer. "Let's get to work, shall we?" 

 

*The Cistern, the next day* 

"Mercer, are you okay?" Brynjolf asked. "You look a little pale." 

"I'm fine," Mercer snapped. So what if his legs had been wobbly all day? He had taken care of Maven Black-Briar. He didn't like to admit it, but maybe a similar situation would come up soon and he could approach the widow again. Last night had been amazing. Not that Mercer would ever tell the others. "How did your meeting go?" 

"Well, not as well as I had hoped," Brynjolf admitted hesitantly, "but she did agree to reduce the tax to only thirty percent. I suppose we'll have to send some of the initiates out on more jobs outside of the Rift." 

"Thirty percent!" Mercer bellowed. "That's highway robbery!" 

"Sort of the point, Merc," Brynjolf said. 

"You know what I mean," Mercer snarled. He swept his ledgers away. "I'm going to go talk to that she-daedra and give her a piece of my mind!" 

"Given how well last night, maybe that would be better than the piece you gave her," Brynjolf smirked as the Guildmaster stalked away. 

 

*The Bee and Barb, upstairs* 

"What is this about thirty percent?" Mercer demanded when he found Maven. 

"That's all I thought you were worth," Maven said, unfazed. 

"What do you mean that's all I was worth?!" Mercer growled as he slammed his hands down on the table. 

"You didn't budget your time well. You glossed over some of the most important points. And your oral presentation was sloppy and inconclusive," Maven responded, clearly bored. 

"My oral presentation?" Mercer repeated. Had they had sex last night or had he given her a profit review? "Give me another chance!" 

"Mercer, I have to command men all day," Maven sighed, "It's the last thing I want to do when I get home." 

"But you don't understand," Mercer said, as he shook a finger at Maven. "See, I've been going easy on you. Holding back 'cause I was afraid you'd break a hip or something. This time, no mercy. I don't care how long it takes, days, weeks, half a year." 

"Fine, come in," Maven said, gesturing to a nearby empty room. "You can start while I finish reviewing some papers." 

 

*Bee and Barb room, two hours later* 

Mercer and Maven were lying side by side in the borrowed bed. The floor was completely littered with clothes where the thief had torn both his and Maven's off in a frenzy to prove his prowess to the woman. Mercer's hair was slicked back from sweat and he was breathing heavily. One hand was thrown over his head as he stared at the ceiling. 

"I think I'm falling in love with you," Mercer uttered in disbelief. Who knew Maven had that much fire in her? 

"Oh, Gods, that wasn't your first time, was it?" Maven asked; horror heavy in her voice. She snorted, "Although that would explain a lot." 

"No," Mercer rolled onto his arm and started at Maven, "we had sex yesterday." 

"Oh, right, that," Maven rolled her eyes. "Well, you had sex yesterday. I revised my profit projection for the spring quarter." 

Mercer growled softly. Who in Oblivion did the woman think she was? 

The thief jumped out of the bed and dragged his pants on. "Don't go anywhere!" he barked. "I won't be more than a few minutes." 

"That sounds unfortunately familiar," Maven muttered. 

Mercer stomped down to Elgrim's Elixirs, the alchemist's shop on the lower level of Riften. He kicked the door open and slammed a bag of gold on the counter. Hafjorg, Elgrim's wife and co-owner, raised an eyebrow at the sudden intrusion. 

"I need every stamina potion you have available!" Mercer demanded. 

"As you wish," Hafjorg said as she swept the coins off the counter. She paused, not sure if she should say anything, but thought it couldn't hurt. A man didn't buy that many stamina potions for no reason. "If you like, I also have a special brew from the Hag's Cure in Markarth. Might give you an extra boost that stamina just won't provide." 

"Sure," Mercer said, absentmindedly as he was already plotting how he was going to convince Maven of his prowess. "Throw it in." 

As Mercer made his way back to the Bee and Barb, he started to chug down every stamina potion he had just purchased. As soon as a bottle emptied, he tossed it over his shoulder and into the canal. Energy flooded his entire system. 

Once in the he was in the Bee and Barb, Mercer jammed another bag of gold into Talen-Jei's hands. "For any damages," Mercer growled, not even bothering to stop as he ascended the stairs. 

"Let's do this!" Mercer roared as he charged into the room where Maven waited. 

 

*Temple of Mara, that evening* 

"Oh gods, Mercer, what happened?" Brynjolf asked when he entered the temple and saw his Guildmaster sprawled on a cot. His lower half was completely bound with bandages and plaster. Maven was sitting nearby on a bench. 

"He broke his hip," Maven said with a smug smile as she drew on her pipe. 

Brynjolf wasn't certain that she should be smoking on that while in the temple, but he noticed none of the priests were complaining, so he kept his mouth wisely shut. 

"I just dislocated it," Mercer protested. 

Brynjolf motioned to the other thieves he had brought with him to help lift Mercer. "We'll get him back to the Ratway. Thank you for letting us know, Maven." 

Maven shrugged. "Oh, Brynjolf," she said as the thieves moved to leave. "I reviewed your tax proposal. I was," she smirked as her eyes flickered to Mercer, "pleasantly surprised." 

"Yeah, she was," Mercer crowed to Brynjolf. 

"Fifteen percent." Maven put out her pipe and left the temple. 

"Fifteen percent!?" Mercer balked, "Brynjolf, after I've gone through my eight weeks of physiotherapy, I am gonna get us back down to ten percent!" 

"Let her go, Merc," Brynjolf said as he patted the older man's shoulder. "She belongs out there. In the wild. You should feel proud. You fought the sabre cat... and lived." 

"Yeah, I did," Mercer glowed, placated. However, he was already mentally planning for his next move. There wasn't a lock in existence that he couldn't crack, and he would be damned if Maven Black-Briar would be the first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to How to Hunt a Sabre Cat  
> Copyright Bethesda  
> Comments loved  
> Inspired by Skyrim Kink Meme
> 
> Oh, Mercer. When are you going to learn to stay away from them Black-Briar women?

Part 1: How to Hunt a Sabre Cat

It was another typical day in the Cistern. Thieves were lounging around, either waiting for it to get dark enough to go on a job, resting from returning from a job, or trying to fence their illegitimate goods. Brynjolf was walking quickly past the members, ignoring them instead of his usual good-natured banter. The redhead was focused on talking to Mercer Frey as soon as possible. 

"Mercer," Brynjolf said as a way of greeting when he got to the Guildmaster's desk. "I need to talk to you about Maven Black-Briar." 

"Maven can go fuck herself," Mercer snorted, not bothering to look up from his ledgers. "I have enough to do without bothering with her." 

"It might be a blessing if she did," Brynjolf said bitterly. "That woman just sent an invoice down here saying that she is going to increase her cut of our profits to fifty percent." 

"WHAT?!" Mercer exclaimed, finally looking up. Rage painted his face. "Her cut has always been ten percent." 

"I know, boss," Brynjolf said, stepping back with his hands held up in a defensive pose. "She says that she's pulling more weight than us and that the extra effort comes with a cost. Since she's doing equal work as us, then she demands equal pay." 

"Damn that woman," Mercer growled as he curled his hand into a fist. "She's got the jarl in her pocket too. We cannot just ignore this. We have to renegotiate otherwise things will get messy." The Guildmaster nodded as he came to a decision. "Fine, I'll accept your challenge. I'll bed Maven so she'll be in a better mood when you meet her to convince her to reduce her take." 

"I didn't challenge you to have sex with..." 

"The sabre cat hunt begins!" Mercer declared as he left the Cistern. 

 

*Later at the Bee and Barb* 

Mercer and Brynjolf had seated themselves at a table a discrete distance away from Maven who was preoccupied with a pile of papers. 

"Oh, she's a sabre cat all right. A prime specimen. See you can identify a sabre cat by a few key characteristics," Mercer smirked. 

"What do you mean by a sabre cat?" Brynjolf asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Maven scared him and if Mercer knew what was best for him, he would be scared of her too. Not only did she have connections to the jarl, it was loudly whispered that she had ties with the Brotherhood and was not scared to use them. 

"An older woman who is still attractive and feeds upon younger men for their sexual appetites," Mercer explained. 

"Mercer, you're in your fifties, just like Maven," Brynjolf interjected. 

"Quiet, Brynjolf!" Mercer said, holding up his hand. "I was educating you about sabre cats. Anyway, you can tell a sabre cat by certain qualities." 

The two men looked over at Maven who was methodically sorting her pile of papers with a concentrated frown on her face. 

"First, you can tell by her hairstyle," Mercer said. "Sabre cats keep up the current style to fool their prey. They may not realize that they've engaged a sabre cat until she's dragged them back to her lair." Brynjolf did have to admit that Maven's braided style suited her very well. 

"Second is her style of dress," Mercer continued. "A sabre cat dresses to distract her prey." He pointed to how Maven's dress was cut lower than usual for Nord fashion. A piece of paper fell to the ground. As Maven leaned over to pick it up, Brynjolf could get a good view of her chest. "The cougar displays maximum cleavage possible to captivate her prey. You're watching them bounce, she's about to pounce." 

"Finally, observe the claws," Mercer said as he leaned back taking a huge gulp of his mead. 

Maven was messing with her hair, so Brynjolf could see her blood red nails flashing in the candlelight. 

"Long and sharp to ward off rival females. Yep, this one is a beaut," Mercer smirked. "Let the hunt begin." 

"Now wait a minute, Mercer," Brynjolf grabbed his guildmaster's arm as the man started to stand. "I'm not really comfortable with you hunting our matron." 

"Who would you rather have at that negotiating table?" Mercer sneered. "A savage, man-eating plains cat, or a purring, satisfied kitty?" 

Brynjolf closed his eyes and nodded. "Go, Mercer. Go mount and stuff that sabre cat." 

As the Thieves' Guildmaster approached the most powerful woman in the entire Rift, Brynjolf made his exit. He wasn't sure he wanted to witness what was going to happen next. 

Mercer smoothed his hair back as he approached the Meadery owner. He had done his fair share of seduction over the years, so this should be a simple job. Sweeten up the woman, have a night of sex, and then back to business as usual. Better not use too much of the charm though. He wouldn't want the poor woman craving more. It would be just degrading. 

"Why, if it isn't Maven Black-Briar?" Mercer said, cheerfully. He didn't normally do cheerful, but sometimes you had to take an arrow for the team. "Don't you look lovely today?" 

"Tell me what you want and get out, Mercer," Maven snapped, barely looking up from her papers. Hm, maybe this was how his crew felt when he did that. 

"Direct, that's something I've always liked about you, Maven," Mercer grinned as he leaned against the table. "Well, if you must know. I want you." 

Maven stopped looking at her papers and directed her gaze at Mercer. One finely plucked eyebrow rose as she contemplated the seriousness of his offer. "Turn around," she commanded. 

When Mercer turned, he noticed that Maven was looking over his body. She seemed especially pleased with his ass. Mercer smirked. He did keep a mean figure even if he was in his fifties as Brynjolf had made sure to point out. 

"My house, two hours," Maven said. "Don't be tardy." 

 

*Black-Briar Lodge, two hours later* 

"I have an appointment," Mercer said disdainfully to the house guards. They looked like stupid typical minions  low in intelligence and ambition. Meaning they were totally replaceable. 

"Aye," one of them said. "She said you'd be here. Ms. Maven is upstairs waiting for you." 

This was going to go easier than expected. Mercer strutted into the large house, switching the bouquet of red mountain flowers from one hand to another. He had purchased them earlier. Bitches loved flowers. 

Mercer ascended the stairs, mentally filing away all of the expensive looking décor in the house. The Guild would never rob Maven, she was one of theirs if only as an honorary member, but it was good to know what was where. You never knew when you might need a quick pinch and Maven was probably the richest private citizen this side of the Civil War. 

The door to the master bedroom was open, revealing a large bed. Half the Guild could probably sleep on it and still have room left over.  Mercer discretely closed the door behind him as he glanced around. 

"Maven?" Mercer called. "I'm here." 

The older woman emerged from a side room wearing only a bed robe. It was made of fine quality satin and clung to her body like water. The deep red suited her perfectly. 

"These are for you," Mercer said with a half-bow as he presented the flowers to the Black-Briar matron. He presented his most charming smile that had made young women melt in the past. 

"Hm, very nice," Maven said, barely glancing at the bouquet. She tossed them casually on a nightstand. Mercer tried his best to not wince. Those damn flowers had been expensive! 

Maven grabbed Mercer by the shoulders and pushed him backwards so he was sprawled on the bed spread eagle. She loosened her robe to reveal breasts that were still firm despite her age. As the robe fell to the ground, she climbed onto the bed and straddled Mercer. "Let's get to work, shall we?" 

 

*The Cistern, the next day* 

"Mercer, are you okay?" Brynjolf asked. "You look a little pale." 

"I'm fine," Mercer snapped. So what if his legs had been wobbly all day? He had taken care of Maven Black-Briar. He didn't like to admit it, but maybe a similar situation would come up soon and he could approach the widow again. Last night had been amazing. Not that Mercer would ever tell the others. "How did your meeting go?" 

"Well, not as well as I had hoped," Brynjolf admitted hesitantly, "but she did agree to reduce the tax to only thirty percent. I suppose we'll have to send some of the initiates out on more jobs outside of the Rift." 

"Thirty percent!" Mercer bellowed. "That's highway robbery!" 

"Sort of the point, Merc," Brynjolf said. 

"You know what I mean," Mercer snarled. He swept his ledgers away. "I'm going to go talk to that she-daedra and give her a piece of my mind!" 

"Given how well last night, maybe that would be better than the piece you gave her," Brynjolf smirked as the Guildmaster stalked away. 

 

*The Bee and Barb, upstairs* 

"What is this about thirty percent?" Mercer demanded when he found Maven. 

"That's all I thought you were worth," Maven said, unfazed. 

"What do you mean that's all I was worth?!" Mercer growled as he slammed his hands down on the table. 

"You didn't budget your time well. You glossed over some of the most important points. And your oral presentation was sloppy and inconclusive," Maven responded, clearly bored. 

"My oral presentation?" Mercer repeated. Had they had sex last night or had he given her a profit review? "Give me another chance!" 

"Mercer, I have to command men all day," Maven sighed, "It's the last thing I want to do when I get home." 

"But you don't understand," Mercer said, as he shook a finger at Maven. "See, I've been going easy on you. Holding back 'cause I was afraid you'd break a hip or something. This time, no mercy. I don't care how long it takes, days, weeks, half a year." 

"Fine, come in," Maven said, gesturing to a nearby empty room. "You can start while I finish reviewing some papers." 

 

*Bee and Barb room, two hours later* 

Mercer and Maven were lying side by side in the borrowed bed. The floor was completely littered with clothes where the thief had torn both his and Maven's off in a frenzy to prove his prowess to the woman. Mercer's hair was slicked back from sweat and he was breathing heavily. One hand was thrown over his head as he stared at the ceiling. 

"I think I'm falling in love with you," Mercer uttered in disbelief. Who knew Maven had that much fire in her? 

"Oh, Gods, that wasn't your first time, was it?" Maven asked; horror heavy in her voice. She snorted, "Although that would explain a lot." 

"No," Mercer rolled onto his arm and started at Maven, "we had sex yesterday." 

"Oh, right, that," Maven rolled her eyes. "Well, you had sex yesterday. I revised my profit projection for the spring quarter." 

Mercer growled softly. Who in Oblivion did the woman think she was? 

The thief jumped out of the bed and dragged his pants on. "Don't go anywhere!" he barked. "I won't be more than a few minutes." 

"That sounds unfortunately familiar," Maven muttered. 

Mercer stomped down to Elgrim's Elixirs, the alchemist's shop on the lower level of Riften. He kicked the door open and slammed a bag of gold on the counter. Hafjorg, Elgrim's wife and co-owner, raised an eyebrow at the sudden intrusion. 

"I need every stamina potion you have available!" Mercer demanded. 

"As you wish," Hafjorg said as she swept the coins off the counter. She paused, not sure if she should say anything, but thought it couldn't hurt. A man didn't buy that many stamina potions for no reason. "If you like, I also have a special brew from the Hag's Cure in Markarth. Might give you an extra boost that stamina just won't provide." 

"Sure," Mercer said, absentmindedly as he was already plotting how he was going to convince Maven of his prowess. "Throw it in." 

As Mercer made his way back to the Bee and Barb, he started to chug down every stamina potion he had just purchased. As soon as a bottle emptied, he tossed it over his shoulder and into the canal. Energy flooded his entire system. 

Once in the he was in the Bee and Barb, Mercer jammed another bag of gold into Talen-Jei's hands. "For any damages," Mercer growled, not even bothering to stop as he ascended the stairs. 

"Let's do this!" Mercer roared as he charged into the room where Maven waited. 

 

*Temple of Mara, that evening* 

"Oh gods, Mercer, what happened?" Brynjolf asked when he entered the temple and saw his Guildmaster sprawled on a cot. His lower half was completely bound with bandages and plaster. Maven was sitting nearby on a bench. 

"He broke his hip," Maven said with a smug smile as she drew on her pipe. 

Brynjolf wasn't certain that she should be smoking on that while in the temple, but he noticed none of the priests were complaining, so he kept his mouth wisely shut. 

"I just dislocated it," Mercer protested. 

Brynjolf motioned to the other thieves he had brought with him to help lift Mercer. "We'll get him back to the Ratway. Thank you for letting us know, Maven." 

Maven shrugged. "Oh, Brynjolf," she said as the thieves moved to leave. "I reviewed your tax proposal. I was," she smirked as her eyes flickered to Mercer, "pleasantly surprised." 

"Yeah, she was," Mercer crowed to Brynjolf. 

"Fifteen percent." Maven put out her pipe and left the temple. 

"Fifteen percent!?" Mercer balked, "Brynjolf, after I've gone through my eight weeks of physiotherapy, I am gonna get us back down to ten percent!" 

"Let her go, Merc," Brynjolf said as he patted the older man's shoulder. "She belongs out there. In the wild. You should feel proud. You fought the sabre cat... and lived." 

"Yeah, I did," Mercer glowed, placated. However, he was already mentally planning for his next move. There wasn't a lock in existence that he couldn't crack, and he would be damned if Maven Black-Briar would be the first.


	3. heiwako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Bethesda  
> Comments loved
> 
> Gods, this took forever! I mostly wrote the Ingun story to help segue into this too. I think what held me up was Maven's no selling. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope people liked it.

Part 3: Dampened Spirits

Warning - The following is pretty much pure smut and definitely without plot. Don't read if that doesn't appeal to you.

Mercer Frey sighed in relief as he leaned back in the bathtub. After his "encounter" with Ingun Black-Briar, the Guildmaster had decided that he would head back to Riftweald Manor and take a hot bath. He had been forced to wait for the goons who watched his estate to drag up the large container and fill it with water, but it had been well worth it. 

"So much for nothing strenuous," Mercer muttered to himself as he sank lower into the water. He definitely had not expected rather brisk sex with Ingun Black-Briar, but he wasn't going to complain. Even if all his joints ached now, it had been well worth it. 

In fact, Mercer smiled as his hand moved down to stroke his twitching member. Maybe revisiting the recent memory would help him relax even more than the bath. Banging the only daughter of the Black-Briar family had gone a long way to helping him relax, but two months of recovery had left him unable to find any relief at all and one tumble on the local alchemist's shop counter wasn't going to be even close enough for catching up. 

Oh gods, yes. That felt good. Of course, it was always better to have a warm body underneath. Maybe Mercer would wander down to Haelga's and convince her that the best way to pay up her protection fee was with some worship of her goddess. Make a little profit for both parties. 

"By the Divines, Mercer, whatever are you doing?" 

"What the fuck?" Mercer exclaimed, sitting up straight. 

He opened his eyes to find to his abject horror Maven Black-Briar standing in his room and behind her lurked her bodyguard, Maul. The matron of the Black-Briar family looked disapproving at the Guildmaster, but that wasn't anything new. 

"How in Oblivion did you get in here?" Mercer barked. "Why didn't my guards turn you back?" 

"Oh, please, Mercer," Maven snorted. "Who provided those men to you to begin with? You didn't think their first loyalty wouldn't lie with me?" 

Mercer growled. First thing he was going to do was fire all of those bastards and hire new goons. What was the point of protection if they allowed anyone in? 

"What do you want, Maven?" 

"Good question," she said vaguely as she glided over and sat on the rim of the tub. "I do hope you were planning on shaving. That dreadful stubble does nothing for you." 

"I think it makes me look like a dashing rogue," Mercer said sarcastically. 

"I doubt you even know how to use one of these properly," Maven sniffed as she picked up his razor blade and flicked it open with one hand as the other firmly grasped the thief's chin and tilted his face upward so she could see it better. "I may as well show you how so you can look more presentable in the future. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll feel generous and invite you to one of the Thalmor Embassy gatherings I so frequently attend." 

"Oh joy," Mercer grumbled. 

"Your sarcasm is not lost on me," Maven said, "but it would do you well to remember that the Thalmor are a powerful faction and it never hurts to have connections to powerful people. Especially if they like you when they have the power to make you and your loved ones disappear in the middle of the night." 

Maven leaned close as she expertly ran the blade along the contours of Mercer's face. Maven's eyes flickered back and forth, seeming to take in every detail of Mercer's features, instead of focusing where the blade went. The hand holding his chin caressed him, mostly Maven's thumb running idly back and forth while the razor scrapped at errant hairs. 

"Is this supposed to intimidate me?" Mercer asked. "Am I supposed to be thinking, 'Oh no, Maven Black-Briar is holding a knife to my throat. I better be a good boy?'" 

"Hardly," Maven snickered, her expression barely changing. That drove Mercer mad how she always kept her face stoic even if she was dressing a man down for being the throwback of a giant and an ice troll. "Even I know that you're a never-good." 

"Just like everyone knows that you never do your own dirty work?" Mercer shot back. 

Slash. 

"Ow, fuck!" Mercer jerked away as the blade suddenly cut his cheek. 

"Don't be a crybaby," Maven chided him. "I barely cut you and a scar could only add to your looks." 

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Mercer asked as he reached up to touch the cut to see how bad it was. 

"To remind you that although I have plenty of men to do my work for me, that doesn't mean I haven't occasionally had to take matters into my own hands. Sometimes it is essential to remind smaller people that I can cause them pain," Maven said. She grabbed Mercer's hand before he could touch the cut. She picked up a wash cloth and ran it over the wound until the blood stopped flowing.  "And sometimes I have to remind them how I can just as easily make the pain go away." 

"Why the need for the message, Maven?" Mercer asked. "You've gotten your cut as always. The Thieves' Guild knows better than try to skim from you." 

The metal of the blade felt cool against Mercer's skin as Maven laid it against his neck. She leaned forward so her lips were brushing his ear. "I know about you and Ingun." 

Mercer's eyes widened in shock and it took everything in him to not flinch lest the blade slip and slice him. How could she possibly have known? It had happened less than an hour ago. 

As a thief, Mercer was twitchy by nature. As someone who had done some terrible things, like kill that soft hearted sap Gallus, Mercer was paranoid by nature. And as someone who was a completely selfish prick, Mercer's gut reaction was to get out of any situation where his ass was on the line. 

So, without thinking, he grabbed Maven and pulled her into the tub with him. He dunked the Black-Briar matron under, not thinking if he was going to drown her or just try to distract her. 

"What do you think you're doing to the boss, you maggot?" Maul yelled. 

Mercer looked up in surprise. He had managed to forget about the Imperial bodyguard. The larger man barreled over and grabbed Mercer by the shoulder before he hurled the Breton out of the tub and onto the floor. 

"Boss, are you okay?" Maul asked as he helped Maven sit up. Her normally braided hair had come loose and the woman was sputtered water everywhere. 

"Thank you, Maul," Maven answered as she smoothed her hair back. Despite the situation, she still managed to sound calm and collected. "I think Mercer Frey needs a lesson. Why don't you handcuff him to the bed so I can be sure to punish him appropriately?" 

"Sure thing, boss," Maul said. Mercer didn't like the grin he saw on the man's face.  

The Guildmaster leapt towards his clothes there were folded on a nearby drawer. He scrambled to grab his pants and had them in his hands when the Imperial grabbed him from behind. 

"Should have just made a run for the door," Maul snickered in Mercer's ear. "You might have gotten further. Looks like your modesty is going to make my job easier." 

Mercer clenched his fists as Maul jerked his pants out of his hand and threw them on the floor before tossing the Breton onto his large bed. When Maul leaned forward, pulling out the cuffs, Mercer tried to slam his heel into the thug's gut. Maul merely grunted as Mercer's foot made contact, but the attack didn't slow the man down at all. His armor absorbed most of the impact and Mercer winced in pain. 

"I thought you were one of the brighter ones, Frey," Maul chided as he snapped the restraints around Mercer's wrists, not concerned with the thief's clenched hands. "Surely you should have realized armor would ignore an unarmed attack." 

Mercer's only reply was to spit at the Maul's face. 

Maul's grin vanished as he wiped the spittle away. "Do you want me to take care of him, Maven? It would be my pleasure." 

"He's mine, Maul," Maven said as she wrung water out of her clothes. "Wait outside." 

Mercer silently swore vengeance when Maul slapped him on the flank before leaving. Maven might be outside of the Guild's influence, but that didn't mean her grunt was. At least not the obvious stuff. 

"Mercer, Mercer, Mercer," Maven said morosely as she came over to the bed. "We were having such a pleasant conversation and you had to act childish. Children are meant to be punished." 

"Then you should go looking for Ingun," Mercer growled. He hoped that Maven wouldn't look up at his hands. Maul might not think it was odd that Mercer's hands were clenched so tightly, but Maven might. Very little got past that woman. 

"In good time," Maven promised as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm dealing with you first." 

"I want to know if you're mad that I fucked your daughter," Mercer smirked, "or if you're mad that she fucked me." 

"What is mine is mine," Maven said noncommittally as she ran a fingernail down Mercer's chest. "And no one is allowed to take what is mine." 

The thief could feel himself twitch as Maven's hand traveled further down his body. He quickly hardened as she stroked him softly. With her hair loose and falling forward, Maven looked both younger and exotic and it was helping turn Mercer on. 

"If, uh, I had known this was going to be the result, I would have pissed you off years ago," Mercer taunted. Precum already coated his tip and when Maven squeezed his erection more milked out. 

"Merely preparing you, Frey," Maven said as she pulled a strip of leather from her pouch. She quickly tied it around the base of Mercer's cock. "I wouldn't want you thinking that you're going to just find release when you want. I have no doubt you're already plotting to just spill all over my clothes." Maven leaned forward so she could run her lips down Mercer's neck. Her grip tightened painfully around his cock. "I'm going have you begging for mercy before I'm done." 

Mercer swallowed hard.  Anyone other person in this situation would have every reason to be sweating in desperation by now. With Maven's attention turned away from him, Mercer slowly relaxed his grip. When he had run to his clothes, he hadn't been worried about grabbing something to cover himself. Instead, he had reached into his pockets to grab his most valuable tool  the Skeleton Key. 

Don't drop it, Mercer thought, do NOT drop it. Easier said than done. Not only was he trying to pick the handcuffs blind, but they were upside down and his hands were restricted. It didn't help that there were very intense sensations going on with the bottom part of his body. If he lost his grip on the Key, then he truly would be at Maven's mercy. 

"I think the only way we're going to be able to continue doing business is if you realize that you're welcome to pursue whatever little games you wish," Maven purred as she flicked her nails over Mercer's flesh, "but you can only get a pay off when and if I allow it." 

Mercer tried to control his breathing as he worked at the lock. Maven was slowly and methodically alternating between stroking his erection and running her hands up and down the rest of his torso. Normally, Mercer had no problems with maintaining, but knowing that he couldn't find release made the desire worse. His balls ached already and she had barely started. 

The Guildmaster almost wept when he heard the click of the cuffs coming loose. 

He immediately sat up, disrupting Maven's perch. The woman looked up in surprise, her expression almost comical. "I think I have something better for you to be doing down there," Mercer growled as he grabbed the back of her hair. He thrust his hips forward as he pushed Maven's head back down so she was gagging on him. He couldn't risk that for long lest she retaliate by biting, but it was so damn satisfying to turn the tables on that bitch. 

Moving swiftly, Mercer flipped Maven over so she was underneath him. He grabbed her hands and snapped the cuffs onto her wrists, locking her into the same position she had put him in. "Don't like it so much when the roles are reversed, do you?" Mercer sneered. 

With a single motion, he undid the leather tie and sighed in relief. 

"I don't know how you managed to get loose," Maven said, her eyes narrowing. It irked Mercer that she didn't looked fazed at all being now the one bound. "Clever, I'll give you that, but I suggest you let me go now before you regret it." 

"Me?" Mercer barked. "You're the one who is tied to a bed." 

"Release me," Maven repeated, rattling the cuffs to emphasize her point. 

"No," Mercer snarled. He reached under the bed's frame to where he had a backup dagger strapped to the frame. "Not until you learn your lesson." 

"And what is that?" 

"No one fucks with Mercer Frey unless they want to be fucked back," Mercer said as he sliced Maven's dress open. 

"How dare you!" Maven squawked. It was the first real reaction she had displayed all night. "That dress was worth more than you make in a single night, you damn sneak thief!" 

"Well, Maven, you forget the one thing we both have in common," Mercer chuckled as he continued to slice the dress until it was little more than scraps of cloth and the woman was completely naked. "We both take what we want." 

The Breton flipped the Nord over and pushed her so she was kneeling with her hands on the headboard. 

"What are you doing, Mercer?" she growled. 

"Punishing you," Mercer said simply as he smacked Maven on the ass. When Maven's only response was to grunt gently, Mercer started to slap as hard and as fast as he could. By the Divines, he was going to get some sort of intense reaction out of her even if it killed him. 

Mercer held nothing back as he spanked Maven. He altered where his strikes landed so she wouldn't know where to brace or build a tolerance. The back of her legs, the lower part of her back as well as her ass all received his hand's attention. And still through it all, the only reaction was that Maven's breathing grew ragged. 

"Why aren't you calling for your bulldog?" Mercer asked. He stopped cuffing Maven long enough to grab her hair and pull her back so he could see her face. He smiled cruelly when he saw that her face was flush, and it didn't look like from anger. "You're getting off on this." 

"Hardly," Maven responded. "I just don't think I need Maul's help." 

"Is that so?" Mercer's hand dipped between Maven's legs and found the area slick. "It seems to me that no matter what you say, your body has another story." 

"And what about you?" Maven retorted. Her eyes flitted to Mercer's stiff cock. "You appear to enjoy hitting helpless women." 

"Maven, you could be blind, toothless, and all of your limbs cut off and I still wouldn't call you helpless." 

"And they say romance is dead," Maven said with a wry smile. 

Mercer was pleased when he pushed her legs apart, Maven didn't resist. He ran his lithe fingers over her folds, touching here, caressing there, trying to gauge a reaction, but Maven's poker face still had no cracks in it. 

"Dammit, woman, why can't you tell me what you like?" Mercer growled as he pinched one of Maven's nipples in frustration. 

"I was going to, but you had to pull your little stunt," Maven shot back. Her face was flushed and her body was clearly responding to Mercer's touch, but the bitch still refused to budge on vocalizing her desire. 

"What was it that you told me?" Mercer asked. He pressed his tip against her clit and rubbed against it, not entering yet, but only teasing. "You have to lead all day and you don't want to in the bed? Hm? Maybe that's what you really want, a man who'll take control." 

"Why don't you find someone who can do that?" Maven asked. She licked her lips as she watched Mercer grind against her. "I'm sure I could give you some sort of finder's fee." 

Mercer wrapped his hand in Maven's hair and pulled so she had to arch her back lest he pull it out. Her body pressed hard against his, bumping so that Mercer slipped just a bit so he was resting against her damp folds. "I think I know what I want," Mercer growled as he slammed his lips against Maven's. 

His tongue pressed into her mouth, and as expected Maven fought back. She bit, all teeth, as Mercer's mouth crushed hers. Mercer wrapped his arm around her waist and raked his nails down Maven's back as he impaled the Nord fully. Gods, it wasn't fair how tight that woman was! 

Maven's legs wrapped around Mercer's hips and squeezed like one of the pythons of the Black Marsh. Mercer had managed to forget exactly how much like a vise her thighs could be like. 

The thief's grip on Maven's hair tightened as he slammed into her as hard as possible, making the whole bed rock with the force. He jerked her back so her neck was exposed and ran his teeth down her skin until he reached the crook of her neck. There he bit as hard as possible, and to his dismay that didn't even earn a gasp from the bitch. 

Her breathing was jagged in his ear. Maven tried to match the pace of his thrusts, but they were too erratic for the woman to shift fast enough, especially given her bound arms. 

"Say my name, Maven," Mercer commanded. His free hand grasped one breast and squeezed it painfully. 

"Why don't you go fuck yourself so you can do it instead?" Maven retorted. Her body was slick with sweat and desire, yet she still refused to make a sound to indicate that she was enjoying every minute of this. 

Mercer released his grip on her hair, leaving her looking as wild as one of the Forsworn savages who ran unchecked in the mountains of the Reach. His hands ran down her body, alternating between pinching and caressing. When he reached her full breasts, Mercer took a nipple into his mouth and started sucking loudly. 

For a second, he thought he had gotten her when Maven took in a deep breath, but she managed to retain her silence. Mercer was convinced that she was intentionally trying to vex him. 

The thief paused as an idea came to mind. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. He was allowing himself to get too frustrated and trying too hard instead of just stepping back and taking his time. In many ways pleasuring a woman was no different than picking a lock. You just took your time until everything fell into place. 

"Had enough, Mercer?" Maven asked disdainfully. Was there a hint of disappointment there? "I should have known that you were more talk than deed." 

"Unwrap your legs, Maven," he responded. 

Maven looked at him, trying to figure out what he was going to do.  She hesitated, caught between not wanting to do what Mercer asked, but at the same time she didn't want to look like she wanted him to continue. Reluctantly, the Nord decided it would be easier to acquiesce this once. 

"I hope you've come to your senses and have decided to finally release me," Maven said dryly. 

"Hardly," Mercer said as he jumped off the bed. He went over to his wardrobe and opened it to grab a couple of lengths of leather strips. "I'm one of those thieves who doesn't like leaving a job half done. There's not a lock in existence that I cannot pick, Maven, and I'll be damned if you're going to be the first." 

When he returned, Mercer grabbed one of Maven's ankles and lashed it to the closest bed post. The other foot quickly followed suit. He mentally made a note of her curious expression and the fact she didn't struggle or try to kick him as he worked. 

As Mercer returned to kneeling before the Nord, Maven asked, "What are you doing?" 

"Trying to figure you out," Mercer said. He leaned forward and gently ran a hand down Maven's face watching for a reaction. It's just like a lock, he repeated to himself. You test it softly to see what quality it was and when you saw the slightest crack, you worked from there. 

No doubt Maven was a master quality lock, almost impossible to bypass and hair-pulling hard, but that just meant the treasure was that much more valuable. 

Mercer placed his thumb on Maven's clit and slowly started to circle the sensitive area. He was pleased to see her tilt her head back as she closed her eyes. When he increased the pressure, Maven swallowed as her breathing deepened. Pleased with his results, Mercer slid back into her and started to thrust slowly. 

"Oh gods," Maven whispered. It was almost inaudible, but it was there. 

Mercer could feel her tightening around him as he increased both speed and pressure. Maven's thighs flexed around him, wanting to constrict him again, but the strips held her into place. Mercer was momentarily thankful that he had tied her legs. Not only did it keep her from crushing him, but Maven seemed to enjoy the restriction given how much she was wiggling against them. 

Maven didn't have much leeway, but she was straining against her binds as Mercer continued to pound into her. She must be close given her repeated chants of, "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, yes." 

Then finally, she was tightening around him, her body clenching almost painfully so around his cock. The Guildmaster might have managed to hold on if Maven hadn't whispered, "Oh, Mercer." That final crack past her mask made him tip over too and he spilled his seed unable to continue as the sweet sound of victory came to his ears. 

Mercer collapsed onto Maven, reveling in his success. Still the best, he mentally gloated. 

"You can let me go now," Maven said, her face turned away. A pause. "Please." 

"Oh, Maven, and here I thought you didn't know how to sweet talk," Mercer laughed. He did oblige though. He was done and frankly, she was taking up too much of the bed this way. 

The Black-Briar matron wrapped one of the blankets around her body as she stood up. Maven walked over to one of Mercer's dressers and opened it. Mercer thought she was going to take some clothes, since hers were destroyed, but instead she withdrew one of the emergency pouches he had stored in there. 

"Hey, want do you think you're doing?" Mercer barked. 

"Calm yourself," Maven said simply as she walked over to the door. She cracked it open and passed the pouch through the portal. "Maul, I seem to need new clothes. Take this and purchase me some new ones. Mind you that you pick the good quality material. None of that cheap cotton Bersi tries to pass off as fine cloth." 

"Are you okay, Boss?" Maul asked, his voice heavy with concern. 

"Yes, now go," Maven said. Heavy footsteps faded away as Maul left to do his mistress's bidding. 

Mercer lied back on the bed, smirking. As he closed his eyes, he crossed his arms behind his back. "Feel free to wait downstairs as long as you need to, Maven," he said generously. He could afford to show some hospitality to the woman. She and her daughter had given him quite the welcome back reception. 

The door latched closed, but Mercer had not expected the light padding of feet coming towards him or the slight squeak of his mattress as someone slid into the bed with him. 

"What the hell?" Mercer snapped. Maven was curling up against him, resting her head in the crook of his arm. "No! Get out! No cuddling!" 

"Mercer," Maven said, not looking at him, but that no-nonsense voice was back, "I have no clothes because of you and it's warmer here than in your bare little living room. You owe me that much until Maul gets back." 

Mercer snorted and laid back again. He didn't feel like trying to deal with a stubborn Nord refusing to be kicked out of his bed. Besides, Maul would probably be back soon and he would be rid of Maven anyway. Why spend the time screaming at her? It didn't help that she was relatively warm herself. 

"Whatever," Mercer muttered. 

"Mercer." 

"Yes, Maven?" Mercer sighed. 

"I hate you." 

"I hate you too." 

"As long as we both understand that." Maven wrapped her arm around Mercer's waist; her nails digging into his skin. 

"Crazy bitch," Mercer grumbled before going to sleep.


	4. heiwako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Bethesda  
> Comments loved!!!
> 
> A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Zute who requested more Mercer and Maven. I don't always manage to do personal requests, but our writing group is doing story exchanges for Christmas and this is my gift to her. I'm sorry this is so early (before Thanksgiving to boot!), but I didn't think you would mind. Her prompts were:
> 
> Groping one another not-so-discretely under a table at a state banquet.
> 
> Mercer has a problem... he took some magical Viagra and he has an erection that is lasting for more than 4 hours.
> 
> Mercer finally discovers Maven's kink.
> 
>  
> 
> As you can see, I played with each concept a little bit. Instead of Viagra, poor Mercer ended up with a roofie, which honestly was a lot worse. Obviously, this is a little more romantic than the previous installments, but Mercer is jacked up on drugs for it. So he's not his normal grumpy self, which oddly made him a lot harder to write. XD

Chapter 4 - Scoundrel's Folly

"It'll be fun, Mercer. You should learn how to mingle with high society, Mercer. It will do you a world of good to get out of those sewers for a while, Mercer." The Thieves' Guildmaster slammed the door to his room shut behind him as he grumbled to himself. 

Maven Black-Briar had insisted that he be her escort for the New Life Day festival party at the Thalmor Embassy. And when Maven insisted, that involved her sending her men down to the Ratway, bodily picking Mercer up from his desk where he was counting his ill-gotten money, and forcibly dragging him kicking and screaming to Black-Briar Lodge. 

It had been a miserable trip. The entire ride up here, Mercer had been wedged between Maven's unbearable sons, Hemming and Sibbi, who spent the entire time complaining loudly about being forced to attend the gala. Mercer didn't even understand why they were bitching since they were Maven's kids. It wasn't like he was related to her at all and he had been roped into the damn thing too. 

Matters were made worse with Ingun sitting directly across from him. The youngest Black-Briar had continuously made advances to Mercer the whole trip. She would nudge her foot against his leg and run it up his calf, lick her lips suggestively, or wink before leering at him. Normally, it would be amusing to watch her flirt with him, but not with Maven two feet away and possibly ready to knife both of them if she noticed. 

Maven gave no sign of acknowledging Ingun's actions; a fact that Mercer found oddly out of place for the Black-Briar matron. Why would Maven studiously ignore her daughter's flirtations? It was common rumor that nothing got past that woman. A test? To see how Mercer would react or to see how far Ingun would take it? Or maybe she didn't want to appear as if she cared. Maven always was an enigma to the thief, refusing to show the barest shred of emotion unless he pushed her hard. 

Once they had arrived, Maven had crammed some fancy clothes into Mercer's hands and commanded him to wear them and make himself presentable before she had gone off to her own suite to get cleaned up for the night's gathering. The clothes were garishly loud, stiff, and itchy. Mercer hated them and craved his Guildmaster leathers. 

The party was hosted by a bunch of snot nosed Altmer looking down at every one from their height advantage. They had treated Mercer particularly rudely by pointing out his Breton heritage and commenting that it was a pity that breeding didn't always tell. It was one insult after another, something Mercer Frey did not tolerate lightly. 

Maven had to have known the Thalmor would react that way too. She was too politically savvy to have not considered every pro and con of who to have as her escort. Mercer wasn't exactly sure what message she was sending to the Thalmor with her little Breton escort, but he knew what message he was going to send. 

The thief ripped the fancy dress clothes off and carelessly threw them to the ground as he pulled out his bag. Mercer chuckled evilly as he dragged the form-fitting leather pants on over his narrow hips. While they were down there bragging about how superior they were to the rest of Skyrim, Mercer was going to rob every last one of those motherfuckers blind. Let's see how proud they were when they came to their rooms tonight and their priceless trinkets and heirlooms were gone. 

On the nightstand next to the bed, Mercer noticed a tray with a bottle of wine and a glass already poured, probably left there by any one of the countless servants that roamed the estate. He picked up the goblet and drained it before he noticed the note that had been propped on the other side. 

"I thought you would need something to help you relax," it read. "Meet me after and maybe we can have some fun." It was signed, "Ingun Black-Briar" and there was a little heart after her name. Mercer could have thrown up. 

He flopped onto the bed, grabbed his boots and pulled them on, planning his first victim, when the potion hit. Suddenly, the Breton felt too hot and a little dizzy. What in Oblivion had Ingun put in his drink? 

Heat radiated throughout his whole body. Mercer was grateful that he had not pulled on his chest piece yet because his torso felt like it was on fire, but in a good way. It was like being submerged in a hot pool of water without being wet. His skin felt incredibly sensitive and the creak of leather running along his legs was the most sensuous feeling he had ever experienced. 

Most importantly, there was an emotion Mercer was feeling. He wasn't certain if he had felt it before and it felt like hours as he pondered that feeling before he realized what it was  euphoria. He felt relaxed with inner peace and that if the most snot nosed elf were to approach him right now then Mercer could forgive him regardless of any insults. 

It was weird. 

Mercer lay back on the bed, enjoying the cool feeling of the satin sheets as he spread his arms wide. He could feel a huge goofy grin spread across his face, an abomination normally, but right now it felt right. His cock started to press painfully against the tightness of his pants, so Mercer slipped his hand into the breeches and started to stroke it slowly. 

It felt like he had never touched himself before. His dick throbbed with sensitivity as he ran his thumb slowly over the tip, smearing pre-cum meticulously over the whole thing. It felt like he could make out every vein pulsing as he pumped the engorged member. When Mercer couldn't take it anymore, he pulled it free of the confining leather and sighed in bliss when the cool air hit. 

Glancing at his cock, Mercer noted that it looked bigger than usual. He wasn't by any means small in that area, but tonight his cock was an angry red and much more swollen. Whatever Ingun had used seemed to not only make him more sensitive, but it also affected his blood flow. 

Mercer grunted as he picked up the pace of pumping his shaft. He felt entranced by how his rough hands felt against the smooth skin. He could feel every callous and scar as he thrust. He couldn't wait to feel his hot, thick seed spill onto his hand. Maybe he would taste it to see what it was like. He had overheard others talk about it and thought it disgusting, but maybe tonight he would give it a try. 

It didn't look like release was coming any time soon, though. No matter how hard Mercer jerked his hand or bucked his hips, he just couldn't come. He was going to need something more to help him focus. 

"Mercer Frey!" Maven Black-Briar was standing in the doorway, frowning with her hands on her hips. "By the Eight, what are you doing in here? You're supposed to be mingling downstairs, not sulking up here." 

Thank the Shadows, his prayers had been answered. 

"Are you really up here playing with yourself while the single most important social event in all of Skyrim is going on?" Maven scolded as she approached the bed. She paused, an actual look of concern crossing her face for a second. "What is wrong with you? You're flushed." 

"Your daughter poisoned me," Mercer said languidly. He nodded at the nightstand. "She put something in my drink." 

Maven picked up the empty container and smelled it. "Oh, when I get my hands on that girl." 

"Worried about me, Maven?" Mercer chuckled. He sat up long enough to grab her and pull her next to him on the bed. "I didn't know you cared." 

"I don't," she snapped, "but if something were to happen to you as my guest, it would reflect badly on me." 

"Why don't I believe that?" Mercer snorted as he pressed his face against her hair. Gods, she smelled so good. He could feel every strand of her silky hair brushing across his skin. "Admit that you like me, Maven. Why else would you go through so much trouble to bring me along?" 

"I'll admit no such thing," she sniffed as she struggled to get out of Mercer's iron grip. "I just didn't want to have to have Hemming as my escort." 

"You don't have to lie to me," Mercer growled as he ran his tongue down her neck. "Has anyone ever told you that you taste like honey?" 

"Given that I own a meadery, repeatedly," Maven retorted, but she sounded pleased. 

"I want you, Maven. I need you," Mercer said as he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his erection. Her cool, thin fingers felt like Sovngarde itself. 

"You're high, Mercer," Maven said, taking her hand back. Mercer wanted to whimper. He had liked how she had felt wrapped around him. "As annoying this is I'm just going to have to tuck you into bed and let you sleep this off." 

"I'd rather do the tucking," Mercer laughed as he rolled so he was on top of the Black-Briar matron. He grabbed Maven's skirt and flipped it up so her legs were bare. Maven tried vainly to slap Mercer's hands away as his fingers entangled in her smallclothes before ripping them off and tossing them on the floor.  
Once he had free access to Maven's nether regions, Mercer pinned her arms to her sides and pressed his tip against her folds. He smirked when he noticed that she was already wet and had parted her legs, allowing him to press against her easily. 

"Those were expensive," Maven growled. 

"Everything about you is expensive," Mercer said. He leaned forward and kissed Maven, pushing his tongue into her mouth while he teased her with his tip. "It's one of the things I like about you." 

"I didn't think you were allowed to like anything," Maven said, her lips quirking with amusement. 

"Of course I like things," Mercer frowned. He grabbed Maven's leg and lifted it so he could pull her closer. Gods, he was so close as he ground against her. "That's the whole point of being a thief. You like something and you take it." 

With that in mind, Mercer finally decided that he was done with the foreplay and thrust into Maven. Her gasp at his sudden invasion only made him thrust harder. He gave the woman no time to adjust to his girth as he slammed into her. 

"Oh, you bastard," Maven murmured in his ear before she bit down on the lobe. Her arms wrapped around his throat and for a second Mercer was convinced she was going to start strangling him. Instead, she pulled him close so they could kiss, both fighting for dominance as their mouths wrestled. 

The leg Mercer wasn't holding wrapped around his back, sending a tingling sensation all the way down his spine. He made sure to not lose his grasp of the other one to keep Maven from getting her constrictor-like legs around him. He didn't want his movement restricted more than necessary as he thrust into Maven. 

"Don't you dare stain these clothes," Maven hissed in Mercer's ear before she ran her teeth sharply down his neck. "I have to go back to the party after this and I don't have any extra." She reached down and grabbed Mercer's balls and squeezed them while running one fingernail not so gently over the tender flesh. "A preview in case you decide it's worth the risk." 

"You don't have to worry at all," Mercer chuckled. "I'm rather taken with the idea of you walking with no underclothes and my seed trailing down your legs." 

"Oh, Mercer," Maven purred, her predator eyes glittering with amusement, "you do know how to sweet talk a woman." 

"Shut up, baby, I know it," Mercer laughed as he hiked up Maven's hips and slapped her on the ass. 

"I think I might like you like this," Maven said as she leaned forward and kissed Mercer on the cheek. "Although you neglected to shave again." 

"Maybe I'll let you have the honor later," Mercer taunted, enjoying the wicked gleam in Maven's eyes.  

He grabbed her collar to pull it down so he could nibble along her collarbone. He might not be able to get to her bare nipples because of her clothes, but at the very least he would leave little love bites just below the surface. Let those snotty elves chew on that. Maven Black-Briar, one of the most prestigious women in all of Skyrim, bruised and sexed like a common whore. 

The glitter of gold caught Mercer's attention when he pulled on Maven's dress. He hooked a finger to pull it free from under the cloth, but before he could get a good look, Maven slapped his hand away. 

"Oh, no you don't," she teased. "I know how sticky your fingers are. I need this necklace." 

"How much do you need it?" Mercer asked, grabbed Maven's hair and pulled it back hard enough to make her jerk her head back. He ran his lips down her throat, not daring to leave any bite marks, but enjoying the hitch of her breath. 

"I need it," Maven moaned as she thrust her hips in counterpoint to Mercer's. "I need it as much as I need you. Mercer, Mercer, Mercer." Dammit, it wasn't fair that she knew what drove him wild and he still had no idea what would make her crumble like a stack of cards. "You're the best thief in Skyrim  no, in all of Tamriel." 

Maven reached around with one hand and caressed Mercer's ass, fondling him through the leather of his pants before trailing her nails roughly up his back. She continued to chant his name over and over, "Mercer, Mercer, you're the best, oh, Mercer," until finally he couldn't hold back any more and came. He tilted his head so he could bite down on her forearm, the cloth muffling his scream. 

Mercer collapsed on Maven, spent and panting. Maven chuckled as she pushed him to the side. She curled one red nail under his chin and tilted him so he could see her. "Normally I would make you work to finish what you started, but I really do need to get back to the party before my absence is noted. It really wouldn't do for the Thalmor to suspect I may have dealings they are unaware of." 

"You cheated," Mercer growled weakly. Why was it every time they got done fucking, Mercer lost feeling in his lower limbs? 

"Hardly," Maven snorted as she looked for a cloth to wipe her inner thigh. "I just used the tools that worked. It's not my fault you're so shallow that you get off on your own name." She tossed the cloth with the rest of Mercer's clothes as she stood. "And in case you were wondering, all of that was just sweet talk. I didn't mean it in the slightest. Now get some rest and try to not embarrass yourself any further." 

When Maven leaned forward to kiss Mercer on the cheek, her necklace swung forward and hit him in the face. Mercer reached up and grabbed it to discover that it was an Amulet of Mara. "What the fuck is this?" 

"Oh, for Divines sake," Maven scoffed as she pulled the trinket away. Mercer noted that she didn't tuck it back under her collar. "You're not so sequestered in that dank sewer of yours that you don't know what this is or what it's for." 

"You're not a restoration specialist," Mercer said, going for the lesser used reason for an Amulet of Mara. 

"No, I'm not," Maven retorted as she fixed her hair using the mirror over the nightstand. 

"You don't need a husband. As you've pointed out many times, you're one of the most powerful women in all of Skyrim," Mercer snapped. 

"Sometimes it's not about what you need, sometimes it's about what you want," Maven replied as she started to exit the room. She paused at the doorway. "And I want a husband. I want someone I can have in my bed every night and hold when I feel like it and be by my side as I control the world around me." 

"What about me?" Mercer asked, not believing the words were coming out of his mouth. 

Maven laughed cruelly, throwing her head back as she covered her mouth. "You? Mercer Frey? You're not the marrying type, thief. We both know that. Even if you could convince yourself otherwise, if only for the sake of my money, it would only be a matter of time before you tired of it or tried to take it all for yourself. No, our relationship, such as it is, doesn't need to change." 

Mercer stared in shock as Maven left. He was still in shock that he had asked her that. It's not like he wanted to be with that bitch. He didn't even particularly like her. Maven was like a trinket you found in a house you were robbing. It seemed pretty and maybe worth keeping, but later you wondered why you had bothered with it. She was exactly like that. 

It didn't matter if he didn't know whether he wanted to keep or pitch her. What mattered was that she was his, dammit! Mercer's face turned down into an angry frown as he growled deep in his throat. That's right! Maven was his and he'd be damned to Oblivion before he let her just waltz off. 

Determined to have his say, Mercer leapt off the bedand promptly fell on his face, entangled in his own pants. After a few moments of scrambling to get clothes on and get feeling back in his legs, Mercer ran downstairs to the Embassy party. 

The room was crowded with people; Mercer even recognized some of them as jarls of other holds. He didn't care though. The only person he saw was Maven talking to an Altmer woman wearing the Justicar robes of the Thalmor faction. He thought that he remembered her as the hostess, Elenwen. 

The gold and blue pendant glittered in the firelight, drawing his eyes immediately to it. 

"Mercer!" Ingun chirped, popping out of nowhere. She wrapped her arm around the thief's and leaned her head against it. "I can see that you got my little surprise. Your pupils are so dilated! Why don't we go somewhere private and look further into the side effects of the drug?" 

"I'm busy," Mercer barked as he pushed Ingun hard enough that she fell on her bottom. He stalked up to Maven, interrupting her conversation with Elenwen. "Maven, I have something to say." 

"Who is this?" Elenwen sniffed. 

"No one," Maven said pointedly. "Just some provincial I brought from Riften so he could see the finer things in life. I'll know better next time."  
"Don't ignore me, Maven," Mercer said, getting louder. Several heads were turning their way. 

"I'm so sorry, Ambassador Elenwen," Maven said, trying to keep a straight face instead of flying off in a fit of rage. "I think he's had too much to drink. The wine can go straight to a man's head if he's used to only rough ale." 

"You know it's not the wine," Mercer said, cutting off any reply Elenwen was about to give. With his back to her, he failed to notice the ambassador waving for two guards to come over. Mercer grabbed Maven's arm and pulled her close. Inches apart, he was rudely reminded that she was taller than him, so he did the only thing he could think of  he swept her off her feet. 

"I LOVE YOU!" Mercer Frey declared loudly as he held Maven Black-Briar in his arms. 

"Oh, dammit," Ingun squeaked, stamping her foot in frustration. If only if she had gotten to him before Mother had. 

Before Maven could respond to Mercer's loud proclamation, two guards grabbed the thief by the arms and dragged him away.  The Black-Briar matron fell heavily on her back without Mercer there to hold her up. 

"I think a few days in the dungeons will help cool his heels," Elenwen said stiffly. "Bretons have gotten so out of control ever since they got their own lands." 

"I am so sorry, Ambassador Elenwen," Maven said, looking down in shame. How dare Mercer? How dare he? In front of all these people? In front of all these very, very important people? She reached up and grasped the Amulet of Mara hard enough the metal cut into her hand, bending slightly. He would pay when she saw him again. 

Oh, how he would pay.


	5. heiwako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We find out what happens after the Thalmor New Life Festival.   
> Inspired by a SKM prompt - The DB complains to Mercer about the Thieves Guild living in Maven's pocket. Maven finds out and punishes the DB accordingly.
> 
> I imagine (and would love to read) Maven loving a bit of BDSM...extra points if she's really cruel 
> 
> Preferably human DB and a dub-con tone throughout.
> 
> Comments appreciated!

Taking Care of Business  Part 5 Loud and Clear

"Look, I'm just saying I don't understand why anyone listens to that poopy old Maven Black-Briar," Anika declared as she tipped back her tankard of mead. The Redguard leaned back in her chair so it was balanced on its hind legs while she propped her booted feet on the table. "She's not that big of a deal. The Guild shouldn't have to kotow to her." 

"Watch your mouth, girl," Delvin hissed, making a 'lower your voice' gesture with his hands. "People might hear what you're saying. Worse, they might repeat it." 

"No one here to repeat jack shit, my friend," Anika drawled. She gestured broadly with her free hand to indicate the open space. 

Behind her, Vekel the Man wiped the counter of the bar of the Ragged Flagon. Near the entrance, Dirge stood guard. Other than the two of them, no one else was in the Ratway today. 

"That's because most of us went out to look for Mercer," Delvin said. He wiped a layer of sweat that had appeared on his bald head at the mention of Maven Black-Briar. "Brynjolf manned a rescue mission to find our missing leader. You weren't here when it happened, but Maven's men came in, picked him up, and dragged him off kicking and screaming. No one has seen him since then." 

"Whatever," Anika scoffed. "Mister Grumpypants is probably out robbing the countryside blind. I swear for being the Guildmaster of a Thieves' Guild, it's not like he ever goes out to loot." 

"Girl, he's been gone over two weeks," Delvin said. He stood abruptly. "Makes me feel nervous. Things have been falling apart for a long time now. Used to be that we were something." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Anika interrupted. "You've told me before. 'It was like another Imperial city down here.' That's exactly why we need to stop licking Maven Black-Briar's boots and stand on our own. You dig me, Del?" 

"I fear someone will be digging something else for you if you don't keep your mouth shut," Delvin warned her. "A nice little plot of land to call your own. Real private like." The older thief ran his hand over his scalp. "I think I'll feel a bit better if I go out myself. See what can be seen. In the meantime, I highly recommend that you keep your mouth shut." 

"No promises," Anika said before she took a long draught of her ale. 

 

Anika was the newest of a long line of protégés for Brynjolf. The Redguard was a small thing, only a few inches taller than five feet, slender and quick as most thieves. Her red-streaked hair was kept to a little more than chin length and her skin was a pleasant chocolate brown. She had a ready smile and made everyone around her feel comfortable with a quick laugh or entertaining story. 

It was no secret that no one thought she was going to last every long. None of Brynjolf's "discoveries" in the last year had lasted more than a month. It didn't help that too many veteran thieves had been caught for the stupidest reasons lately. A sudden need to sneeze. The guard turning at the wrong moment. That sort of bad luck kept cropping up more and more. 

Her biggest problem was sometimes she didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. Anika spoke her mind rather bluntly and didn't give a damn if anyone heard her.  She had decided that she didn't like Maven Black-Briar in the slightest. That in and of itself didn't even matter. Few people liked Maven Black-Briar. The problem was that Anika didn't fear her. 

After Delvin had taken off, the Redguard decided that she was bored and ventured up top to the market place. She had just come in from a heist, so there was no real urge or need to steal. So instead she just blathered on, obliviously, about Maven Black-Briar. 

To Madesi  "I mean, who does she think she is anyway? She's just the owner of a meadery. That's no big deal." 

To Balimund  "Her kids are rotten to the core. Everyone knows Sibbi killed that guy just to watch him die." 

To Mjoll  "I could do a better job than Maven Black-Briar, you know? Bah, how hard can it be to hire people to collect honey and make it into mead? You know what I mean?" 

To Haelga  "Seriously, Maven Black-Briar is just a big old doo doo head. The Thieves' Guild doesn't need her. 

Before the bunkhouse matron could respond, the door opened and in walked Maul, followed by three of Maven's men. The four men circled the petite Redguard, arms crossed and intimidating scowls in place. "I heard you've been badmouthing Maven Black-Briar," Maul grumbled. "Been hearing it from a lot people." 

"And?" Anika asked, her tone bored. 

Maul paused. He had expected denial and maybe even some justification. He had not been prepared for apathy. "And so she wants to talk to you. Give you a personal interview. See if the two of you can straighten this whole thing out civilly instead of you libeling her all over Riften." 

"Slander." 

"Excuse you?" Maul growled. 

"It's slander if you say something accusatory about someone," Anika clarified. "It's libel if it's in print." 

"Whatever," Maul snapped. "Are you going to come with us or not? Maven demands to see you." 

"I don't have to do shit," Anika sniffed. 

Suddenly a huge club of a fist shot out and punched Anika in the face. The thief went down like a two septim hooker. "Fine, we'll do it the hard way," Maul grunted as he picked up the limb body. He tossed a few coins on Haelga's counter before turning to leave. "For your trouble." 

 

The wind whipped through Maven's hair, throwing it back as she rode Frost at a neck break pace. It felt good to be out in the sun for a while. She had decided to go out when a pounding headache had made the numbers of her ledger start to blur.  She often found herself locked into meetings that lasted from the break of dawn to twilight with barely enough time to get a meal in. 

It was time consuming to run your own business, especially when it was one of the most prominent meaderies in the entire country. It didn't help that she practically had to run the local government, keep the Thieves' Guild in line, as well as maintain her own household. There was no one else she could give the responsibility. Hemming was practically useless in terms of leadership. He was fine if you needed someone to point at a problem and tell them exactly how to solve it, but she couldn't hope for any leaps of inspiration from him. 

Ingun had very clearly and loudly declared she wanted nothing to do with the family business. Thankfully, her potions and poisons were very useful to Maven or she would have been spending some jail time with her brother. 

Sibbi had managed to get himself assigned to an eight month time out. The fool had killed his fiancée's brother almost the moment they had come home from the disastrous Thalmor party. He claimed he had done it in self-defense when Sivdi discovered he had been sleeping around behind her back and the brother had felt that he had needed to defend her honor. However, there had been no sign of any weapon other than Sibbi's personal dagger embedded in the dead man's gut. 

Normally Maven would have gotten Sibbi off of the charge, but honestly the boy needed some discipline. If someone needed killing, fine. But you did it through the proper channels, not by your own hand. And you definitely didn't leave the body out where anyone could stumble on it and then brag about the damn deed all over town.  Idiot! 

Thinking about the Thalmor party made the headache come back. That moron Mercer Frey! He had been an enjoyable distraction at first with his insistence at trying to get her attention. It had actually been nice to have someone around who didn't need to be told how every little thing needed to be done. 

But then he had, for reasons Maven didn't understand, gotten high on something at the Thalmor Embassy New Life Festival and proclaimed that he loved her in front of everyone. EVERYONE! She had never been more humiliated. The thief knew she had been looking to get married and then he had gone and pulled that stupid stunt. 

Granted, Maven's main intent had been to look available for potential alliances. More likely than not, wearing the Amulet of Mara would start conversations that would lead to desirable business contracts. Men might not find her beautiful, but most would be willing to put aesthetics aside for a chance to have a stake in one of the most prominent industries in Skyrim.  And on the off chance she actually found someone worth sharing her bed and life with permanently Well, she would revisit that idea if it happened. 

Instead Mercer, in one fell stroke, had completely ruined that plan. No one would want anything to do with her if they knew she was involved personally with the Guildmaster of the Thieves' Guild. It was useful for there to be rumors of her essentially running the Guild, but to be openly connected to them? Disastrous! 

Maven sighed as she wheeled Frost around to head back to Black-Briar Lodge. It would get dark soon and she really did have to read that pile of documents that were waiting in her room. They weren't going to sign themselves. 

 

"Ms. Maven!" Maul called as Maven pulled up to the stable. The large Imperial burst into a big grin when he saw his mistress. He trotted up and took the reins of her steed so she could dismount more easily. "We got that Redguard who has been saying sh- um, discrediting you in town lately." 

"Where is she right now, Maul?" Maven asked, favoring her right hand man with a small smile. Of everyone who worked for her, Maul was her most efficient man. Too bad he was simply a bodyguard at the end of the day. 

"Tied her up in one of the empty stalls," Maul stated, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Couldn't be tracking the trash into the house, ma'am." 

"Very good, Maul," Maven said. She handed him Frost's reins. "Be a dear and get Frost settled in while I see if I can convert one of our wayward thieves to seeing the error of her ways." 

As the Imperial led the prized steed away, Maven walked over to the stall Maul had indicated. Inside, a naked Anika was tied spread eagle against the wall. Maven was pleased to see that she didn't look roughed up other than the shiner on her right eye. 

"Looks like you took the hard way," Maven commented as she grasped Anika's chin and tilted the Redguard's head so she could see the bruise better. "Shame to have to mar such a pretty little face." 

Anika's only response was to spit in Maven's face. 

The Nord stepped back and calmly wiped her face clean of the saliva. "Crude, but I honestly expected no less from one of Mercer's people. I do believe he did the same thing to Maul one time. Ah, speaking of Maul." 

The Imperial entered the stall carrying a simple, straight-backed chair. "Do I need to rough this one up some more, Ms. Maven?" 

"No, Maul, I have this under control," Maven said, patting the man's shoulder. She sat on the chair Maul provided before primly crossing one ankle over another. She tapped her riding crop loudly against her hip. "Feel free to hang around and watch or take a well-deserved break. Your choice." 

"I always enjoy watching you work, ma'am," Maul grinned. He stepped back until he was just outside the stall and leaned against the side. "Girl, you're in for a real treat." 

"Let me guess," Anika snarled. "You're going to torture me until I change my tune. You're going to cut me and beat me until I beg for mercy? Maybe have one or more of those big lugs who work for you come in here and rape me a few times?" She tossed her hair back with a proud flip of her chin. "Well, good luck with that! I don't break easily. I've never snitched on a crew I've been with and I don't plan on giving in to any bully any time soon." 

Maven laughed at the arrogant Redguard's speech. She had to admit some admiration for the little thing, tied up and nude as she was. Most people would have been quivering for forgiveness already. "No, no, no, dear," she said. "You see, I also own a stable in addition to the Black-Briar meadery. Horses are fickle creatures. You can't simply ride one as soon as it is old enough for the saddle. First, you have to break its spirit. You have to show the simple creature who is the boss and who is the servant. 

"It's not just about domination, though. Any creature misused and abused long enough will find the energy to at least turn on his master. Given enough opportunities, he becomes a liability and has to be put down." Maven looked down at her immaculate red finger nails and flicked a speck of dirty away. "It's wasteful, and I abhor wastefulness." 

Maven stood and moved until she was about arm's length away from Anika. "You see, my dear, I essentially have a business contract with the Thieves' Guild. Nothing officially written on parchment, mind you, but a contract nonetheless. You lot give me my percentage and back me up when I need it and I give you the protection you need from the law." Maven twirled the riding crop lazily. "When someone steps out of line though," the riding crop shot out and snapped against Anika's left nipple, "then discipline must be given." 

Anika screamed more from shock than pain. She had not been expecting that! 

"I don't like hurting people," Maven continued, her voice still even and calm as if she was discussing the weather with Maramal in Riften. "It's just crude. We're a civilized people, are we not? But unfortunately, some people are simple beasts and have to be trained accordingly." 

As the Black-Briar matron spoke, she continued to snap the riding crop against Anika's dark flesh. The crop danced over Anika's body - a quick flick against her inner thigh, followed by a harder crack over her upper arm, a solid landing on her right breast. All over, Maven slapped the crop against the Redguard's skin, leaving stinging marks. 

Anika bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. It hurt like hell when Maven hit her, but more strangely, Anika found that she was being turned on by the pain. It was getting harder and harder to not moan with pleasure as the crop made its way over her body. 

"You like this," Maven observed. She propped the crop on her shoulder, a small smile of amusement crossing her otherwise bored expression. 

"N-no," Anika stammered. 

"No need to lie, child," Maven scolded. She ran the tip of the crop up Anika's thigh until it touched her sex. She rubbed the shaft hard against the girl's crotch and when she pulled it away it was glistening with dampness. "The evidence is against you." 

"Well, so what?" Anika muttered. 

"So, just tell the truth," Maven purred as she ran the riding crop down Anika's jaw. "Communication is always important in a business deal." She flicked the riding crop against Anika's nipple. "Now, do you like it?" 

"Yes," Anika growled, grinding her teeth. "I do." 

"I do what?" Maven pressed as she snapped the whip against Anika's ass. 

"I do like it, ma'am!" Anika fairly screamed. She strained against her restraints as her back arched from the pleasure that ran through her from the strike. 

"That's so much better, isn't it?" Maven smirked. She pressed her body firmly against the Redguard's. Her lips played over the younger woman's as her nails ran down Anika's body. She loved how the girl writhed under her, especially around the leg that was securely pressed against the girl's crotch. She ground against Anika and listened to the girl's stifled moans. 

"We don't have to be enemies," Maven insisted as she twisted Anika's nipples. When Anika groaned softly, Maven kissed her, pushing her tongue completely against the other woman's. "I prefer for this sort of relationship, don't you agree?" 

"Yes," Anika murmured. She shrieked when Maven pinched her nipples. "Yes, ma'am! Damn it, damn it, damn it!" 

Maven laughed as she wove her fingers into Anika's hair and pulled back to expose her neck. The Nord bit hard, starting just below the jaw and worked her way down to the crook of Anika's neck. She could feel her leg dampen from Anika's arousal as she continued to rub against her. Maven quickened her pace, practically riding the girl as they stood. 

Anika tried to struggle against being dominated by Black-Briar, but gods it felt so good. The pressure kept building up as Maven pressed against her, moving in the way only another woman would. Finally, Anika relented and let her orgasm roll through her. 

When she finished, she found that she was only standing because she was tied into place. It felt like her legs were jelly. At least it was over. 

"We're not done," Maven said, almost as if she could read the Redguard's thoughts. She laughed at the astonished expression on the girl's face. "Not by the slightest bit. I want to hear you beg." 

The pressure from the leg was gone and replaced by long fingered hands. Maven pressed her thumb against Anika's clit and swirled it lazily while another finger slid into Anika's folds. Maven removed her hand and licked a sopping wet finger. "Hm, sweet," she chuckled. "Almost as sweet as my bee's honey." 

Then her hand was back and she was pumping hard against Anika, giving no mercy in her actions. Gods, it felt so good. There was no awkward fumbling or stumbling here. Maven knew what she wanted and how to get it. Another orgasm was building up and no matter what Anika did to stop it  thinking of getting caught stealing, trying to say the alphabet backwards, thinking of the worst smells ever  she wasn't able to stop from coming again. 

Dust fell from the ceiling as Anika strained against her bonds. She managed to stifle her cries as she came. At least she had that little bit of dignity to hold onto. 

"Oh, that was a good one," Maven murmured. "Let's try for an even better one." 

The Nord continued to bite along Anika's shoulder as she fingered her harder and harder. Her pace didn't waver and in fact quickened as she continued to finger fuck her captive thief. Meanwhile Maven's free hand had found Anika's breast and pinched and pulled the Redguard's nipple almost lazily. 

Maven started to whisper gently in the younger woman's ear. "You're so young and lovely. You must have men and women constantly wanting your favor. You strike me as the type who holds back though. You think yourself better than the rest. Here, you're nothing though. You're mine to use as I wish.  I don't want you, but that doesn't mean I won't use you." 

It took everything in Anika to focus on breathing so she wouldn't cry out at Maven's taunts. She had bitten her lip so hard that blood was running down her chin. It stung as she bit it again as her third orgasm crashed through her body  unwanted but still so gods damn good. 

"You seemed a little less enthusiastic about that one," Maven reprimanded. She bent down and picked up the crop again. "I think I need to work you up again." 

"M-maven?" Anika stuttered. 

"Shush," Maven pressed one finger against Anika's lips to quiet her. She could smell her own arousal on the Nord's finger. Maven winked. "Just relax. That's what I'm working on." 

Maven started at Anika's feet, flicking the crop against them sharply before moving up the woman's legs. When she reached the Redguard's ass she struck there until both cheeks were covered in lash marks.  She travelled up Anika's torso to her breasts, the tip of the crop flickering over the sensitive nipples with as much tenderness as a Khajiit's tongue. Finally, she slapped it against the bite marks along Anika's neck and shoulders. 

Anika shuddered against the blows. She expected Maven to start fingering her again, but this time Maven turned pushed the crop against Anika's folds and ground it against her clit. The leather of the whip scraped unforgivingly against her too-sensitive skin, but it didn't stop Anika from coming for a fourth time. 

"Oh please, oh gods, please," Anika screamed as she came. She bounced against her restraints hard enough to leave red angry marks against her ankles and wrists. 

"That was the best one yet," Maven said, her voice full of praise. "Now, let's see if we can do even better." 

"No, please," Anika wept. "Please, I'm sorry I shot off my big mouth. I'm sorry I said all those mean things about you. Please. I'm sorry." 

"I know, dear girl," Maven said gently. She ran her hand down Anika's jaw softly. "I know." She turned to Maul. "Maul, untie her, clean her up, and make sure she is escorted properly back to the Ratway. It would not do if something were to happen to her between here and the city." 

"Of course, Maven," Maul said. He had the thief's clothes in his hands already. As Maven moved to go into the lodge, Maul untied the limp thief. When Anika fell to the ground, he squatted by her. "Do you see why I pledge myself to Maven instead of the Guild?" 

Anika managed to roll over so she would watch the proud Nord striding towards her house with not a hair out of place despite the rather vigorous sex she had forced onto her reluctant guest. Damn that had been hot. "Yeah, I guess I do." 

 

Far away in the cold hold of Haafinger  below the estate of the Thalmor Embassy, there was a cave that smelled darkly of blood and death. Ribcages and femurs that look suspiciously like human bones littered the entrance. Screaming echoed inside the cavern before two men burst outside. 

Brynjolf spun around and threw a pair of daggers back into the gaping black maw while Mercer, shirtless, stumbled further away.  A roar filled the air as a frost troll followed the fleeing thieves. Its chest sported Brynjolf's daggers as it swiped at the two men. 

Brynjolf placed himself between his Guildmaster and the creature as it charged them. The Nord swallowed nervously. There were no weapons between the two of them and Mercer didn't even have any armor. It didn't look too good for the two thieves. 

Another scream filled the air, this time behind the troll. "Don't turn your back on me!" Vex challenged. She jumped on the creature's back while twirling her twin Elven daggers before sinking them into its neck. Blood flew in the air as she slit its throat. "You totally owe me, Mercer," the Imperial bragged as she slid to the ground. 

"Don't worry," Mercer spat, "you'll get paid." The Breton stumbled to a tree and leaned against it, breathing in the fresh air. He had been the Thalmor's prisoner ever since the New Life Festival. They had been convinced that he was a spy for their enemies and kept asking him all sorts of weird questions. 

And fucking Maven Black-Briar had left him in their mercy. One word from her and he would have been released. Instead he had been abandoned and forgotten. 

Mercer jumped when Brynjolf placed his hand on the Guildmaster's shoulder. "Our horses are tied up nearby," the Nord indicated with a jerk of his chin. "We can ride to Solitude to get a horse for you and some clothes." 

"Good," Mercer nodded. "Then we head for Riften." He growled softly. "I have some unfinished business to take care of."


	6. heiwako

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercer is finally back in Riften and his first order of business is to get revenge on Ingun Black-Briar for her involvement of drugging him at the Thalmor Embassy. The untimely arrival of her brother forces him to use his Nightingale Invisibilty power, but that doesn't mean the fun has to stop there....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Mercer is finally back in Riften and his first order of business is to get revenge on Ingun Black-Briar for her involvement of drugging him at the Thalmor Embassy. The untimely arrival of her brother forces him to use his Nightingale Invisibilty power, but that doesn't mean the fun has to stop there....
> 
> Inspired by Skyrim Kink Meme - Original prompt - "So, we know for a fact that Mercer can turn himself invisible. The version of this power that's available to us is limited in time; but let's assume he managed to somehow unlock a much more long lasting version of it? I don't care how, let's just... assume.
> 
> Let's also assume he's been lusting after the newest recruit. He doesn't know whether she'd accept him or not, and he doesn't care either. I want to see him sneak into her bed and ravish her while he's invisible and she's ambivalent about what's happening.
> 
> The big kink here is invisibility. I'd prefer dubcon over noncon, her enjoying it is part of the appeal to me. Bonus if you have it happen in a public location (such as the cistern) where they both have to keep very silent in fear someone might investigate. Double bonus if f!DB ends up suspecting Mercer but doesn't have enough proof to do anything about it. I'd prefer a breton, but imperial, redguard, bosmer or dunmer DB would be fine too. Please no scat or straight up mutilation/death, but, apart from that, the kinkier, dirtier, more depraved it is... the more I will love you!
> 
> Woah, long prompt is long, sorry. Hope someone picks this up!"

Ingun woke alone in her small basement in the Black-Briar Manor. She could have moved upstairs after the others had moved out, but she liked her personal alchemy set up too much to abandon it or to transfer all of the sensitive materials upstairs. She stretched lazily before getting ready for the day.

Today was her day to run the shop for Elgrim. She remembered how tickled she had been when the old man finally trusted her enough to let her handle the customers on her own. It didn't matter that most of the time he and his wife were still in the shop since their living area was in the back. They trusted her to keep the customers satisfied with her mixtures and that was a sight more trust than her own kin ever gave.

Many people would have hated working in the dark, dank shop, but it suited Ingun just fine. She loved grinding the ingredients, mixing them, and letting them brew until they were just right. Most of her time was spent cleaning while the potions simmered.

That's why it was odd when she noticed the door was slightly ajar.

Riften was more temperate than the northern holds, but it was still important to stay warm. Undetected drafts could equal death if the chill got into a person's lungs. Ingun frowned as she closed the door. She could have sworn that she had latched it properly when she came in.

Just as the door clicked shut, Ingun felt a pair of rough hands on her shoulders. She gave a small cry of surprise as she was shoved hard against the wall. Hot breath wafted over her face as her assailant growled, "Miss me?"

"Mercer," she whimpered.

"She gets it right in one try," Mercer taunted. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm painfully behind her back. "Give the girl a sweetroll."

Ingun's cry was louder as the pain shot through her arm. "Please don't hurt me," she begged, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, but I was just getting started for repaying you for your little prank at the Thalmor party," Mercer snapped. Two months ago Maven had dragged Mercer along to the Thalmor Embassy's New Life Day party. Ingun had slipped one of her potions into Mercer's drink in the hope of seducing him while he was under its effect. Unfortunately, her mother had found him first. When he found out that Maven was wearing an Amulet of Mara, he had followed her down to the main room and loudly declared his love for her. "They didn't take kindly to an uppity Breton disrupting their little gala. And do you know whose fault that is?"

"Mine!" Ingun screamed as Mercer wrenched her arm higher. "It's my fault!"

"Exactly," Mercer purred, releasing some of the pressure on her. "If you hadn't drugged me, I would have never been down there acting like a fool. I-"He paused, his head tilted, listening. "Someone is coming. Don't tell them I'm here or you won't live to regret it."

And just a quickly, he was gone.

Ingun stood there shaking, trying to get her breath back as she scanned for any sign of the master thief. There wasn't. He was just gone. There one second probably about to kill her and then thin air the next. She scurried behind the counter, hoping her trembling would be less noticeable from there.

The door opened to reveal her older brother, Hemming. Ingun didn't know whether to feel relieved or scared. "Wel-welcome to Elgrim's Elixirs," she stammered. Thankfully, she sounded mostly normal.

"Mother has sent me down here to try to convince you to give up this little hobby again," Hemming said without preamble. He smoothed his clothes as he disdainfully took in the store's collection of bottles and displayed ingredients. "It is improper for someone of your status to be mingling with the common folk like this."

"I see Hemming is wearing the Steward's chain," Mercer whispered in her ear, clear as day. "Your brother has gone up in the world."

Ingun gasped and turned to look at the thief, but she didn't see him. He must be invisible.

"Is everything okay?" Hemming asked, looking annoyed that she wasn't paying attention to him.

"Y-yes."

"Mother, I mean Jarl Maven, wants you to join the rest of your family at Mistveil Palace," Hemming said. "You could spend your time learning the family trade instead of playing in mortar and pestle."

"I like it here," Ingun mumbled, feeling horribly out of place.

"I see that the rumors of Maven becoming jarl were true," Mercer continued murmuring, amused. His hands ran familiarly over her hips. Ingun gasped in surprise at the touch.

"I swear, you would think working in an alchemy store would keep you from getting sick," Hemming grumbled. "You're flushed."

"I'm just exerted from cleaning," Ingun explained. Mercer's hands were under her skirt now and pushing her smalls aside so he could finger her sex. She had to stifle a moan as he touched her.

"It's been too long since I fucked a woman," Mercer murmured, his body hot against hers. He might be invisible, but it didn't stop her from feeling every buckle of his armor digging into her as he ground against her.

Her body reacted readily to his touch. Ingun had always been fascinated with Mercer Frey. For as long as she could remember, he would come by the manor and discuss business with Mother. He had always seemed so dark and mysterious, desirable but completely unobtainable. It wasn't long before she was soaking wet right in front of her brother as the invisible thief molested her.

She could feel him rustling against her just before his tip poked her against her ass. Then he was sliding along her outside folds, rubbing tantalizingly as he searched for her entrance. His fingers spread her wide until she could feel her juices running down her legs.

"Let me check your temperature," Hemming demanded, frowning. "If you've gotten sick from being down here so often, Mother is going to have a stern word with Elgrim." He reached for her just as Mercer slid into her from behind.

"No!" Ingun exclaimed. Her walls clamped down eagerly over Mercer's cock as he slid in and out of her. She bit her lip to restrain a moan as Mercer pounded into her. She might be unwillingly fucked in front of her brother, but she'd be damned to Oblivion before she was going to let him touch her while it happened. "I'm just mad at you for always harassing me about this! I'm an adult and it's my life. I'll do what I want."

"You still represent the Black-Briars regardless of your age," Hemming sneered.

"And?" Ingun grabbed a piece of paper to have something to do with her hands as she tried to not focus on Mercer's hands fondling her mound. She twisted the parchment back and forth, noting how it crinkled in her hands instead of how hot the space between her legs felt as Mercer used her. "There's nothing wrong with being an alchemist."

"You dabble in poisons, sister dear," Hemming sneered.

"They're complicated and fascinating," she stammered. The recipe was becoming shredded as she continued to twist it franticly. Part of her screamed in frustration since she hadn't gotten a chance to study it yet and it had been a difficult one to find. Now it was completely unreadable.

"The court is complicated and fascinating," Hemming countered. "It would do you good to see for yourself."

Ingun opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment Mercer hit a sweet spot with his thrust. The only response she could handle was something akin to, "Augh."

Hemming frowned. "I'm worried about you."

"I-I'm worried too," Ingun admitted with a gritted grin. Sweat poured down her face. Gods, she was so close. Mercer's cock was filling her completely as he used her. She wanted to bend over the counter and just grab the other side and hold on for dear life as Mercer fucked her. If only if her stupid brother wasn't here! "I just…can't…talk right now."

"Fine, I'll come back later and we'll talk over dinner," Hemming suggested.

Finally!

Before Hemming could open the door, it swung ajar on its own to reveal Elgrim and Hafjorg. The older couple looked curiously between Hemming and Ingun.

"What are you doing here?" Ingun shouted. She felt like she was going to cry. Why did they have to show up right now?

"We thought we would stop by and give you a lunch break, dear," Hafjorg said, her eyebrow rising in surprise.

Ingun swallowed in horror. Elgrim and Hafjorg were walking towards her and they were going to see how her skirt was hiked up over her hips and her privates were exposed for anyone to see. What was she going to do? It wasn't as if she could move with Mercer pressed against her like this.

"You should give her the day off," Hemming complained. "Look at her! She's absolutely flushed. If she's gotten sick from being down here all the time…"

Suddenly, salvation came in the form of Mercer pulling out of her. The feeling of her skirt falling back into place was the greatest feeling in the world!

"I think lunch is a wonderful idea!" Ingun cried. She smoothed her skirts as she ran from around the counter and out the door. "In fact, I'm going to take the entire day off!" She was certain they were looking at her as if she had lost her mind, but she didn't care.

The docks creaked under her feet as she ran up the stairs to the upper level. She had to get home and just think or something! This was going too fast and too weird and she was definitely out of her comfort zone.

Once the she was barricaded in Black-Briar Manor, Ingun finally started to relax. Her heart was still beating a mile a minute and breathing was impossible, but at least no one else was here. Hopefully, she hadn't burnt any bridges with Elgrim with her weird behavior today. And even if he or his wife had been offended, she was sure she could convince them to forgive her. She was a prodigy after all!

"Finally, alone," Mercer whispered in her ear. She screamed in shock. He was still invisible and she had no idea how he had gotten in the house.

"Don't hurt me," she whimpered.

"Why shouldn't I?" Mercer growled in her ear. His unseen hand grabbed her breast and twisted cruelly. "You shamed me in front of the Thalmor, you made me a fool to your mother, and I was tortured for weeks before Brynjolf could break me out. I promise you that anything I do to you will pale in comparison, my dear."

The last word dripped with venom.

Ingun couldn't stop from shuddering as Mercer spoke. Small tears clung to her eyelashes as she hugged herself. The Black-Briar daughter had never felt so out of her element in her life. She was a respected and well-known member of the most powerful family of the entire Rift. She had always had control before; she had always had the power.

But now, even in her own home, she was the powerless one. Maybe it would be easier if she could just _see_ Mercer, but the thief maintained his invisibility. She hadn't seen any potion bottles or heard the clink of glass that indicated a container. There had been no incantations of a spell either and Ingun sincerely doubted that Mercer possessed the ability to cast spells. How was he doing it?

"Mercer, please…" she started. Ingun lost her ability to speak as Mercer's fingers unexpectantly wrapped in her hair and pulled back hard. He might be invisible, but that made him no less solid.

"You can beg better than that," Mercer chided. The hand holding her breast pinched her nipple through her dress, the nails almost piercing the sensitive skin. If not for her thick cloth, Ingun had no doubt she would be bleeding.

"Not really," Ingun whined. She had never begged before in her life. She had always gotten what she wanted growing up. If someone was foolish enough to deny her, all she had to do was find one of her brothers or her mother and they would take care of the problem for her.

Her dress suddenly shredded as Mercer ripped it open. She could feel his fingers digging into the cloth before it was torn apart. Her breasts fell free from her sundered breast band. The cold air made her nipples immediately harden and goosebumps run up her chest.

The young woman screamed in surprise. Her hands flew out, blindly seeking for Mercer's face to slap him, but she found no purchase. Mercer's laughter made her anger flare. How dare he? This was her home and she was a Black-Briar. No one messed with someone from her family.

Her crow of triumph when she finally landed a glancing blow was short lived when Mercer returned the gesture with a full handed slap. She reeled as she almost lost her balance. The only reason she didn't fall was Mercer grabbed her wrist and hauled her up and into his arms.

It was bizarre to hover three feet over the ground as Mercer carried her further into the house. Ingun cried out in pain when he dropped her rudely onto the dining table. Her skirt flew over her hips as her feet were pulled out from under her.

"What are you doing?" Ingun cried. It looked like her legs were dangling wildly in the air as she was half pulled off the table. Mercer's fingers were digging into her hips painfully as her underclothes fell apart into small strips of cloth. It looked like he had sliced them off.

"Disciplining you," Mercer growled. "Apparently you didn't learn enough at the store."

His cock slammed into her, giving her no time to prepare or adjust to his enormous girth. Ingun screamed, knowing no one would hear her. Mercer set a mercilessly fast pace as he rocked into her. The table shook from their mass as the thief fucked the alchemist.

"This is what you wanted, wasn't it, Ingun?" Mercer taunted. His hands were everywhere touching her, ripping the remains of her clothes off her, squeezing, pinching, and pulling. "You wanted my cock in you and that's why you drugged me. You wanted me to use you over and over until you couldn't walk."

"Yes, oh yes, please, please, more," Ingun babbled. She was answering mostly because she thought that's what Mercer wanted. It was hard to think as she scrambled to find some sort of hold on the hard table's surface. Her legs wrapped around the older man, making an odd "O" shape in the air. He was so hard, so fucking hard.

"I'm going to fuck you like you want, you dirty little whore," Mercer promised darkly. "You don't need to drug me if you want my cock. I'll gladly use it on you any time." His hands left imprints in her fair skin as he held her down.

Ingun screamed hard enough to hurt her throat as she came, but Mercer didn't stop or slow down at all. He kept fucking her roughly as he pulled her legs higher. "Please, stop," she asked, but if he heard her, he didn't answer.

"We're nowhere near done," Mercer chuckled. He withdrew from Ingun only long enough to flip over onto her stomach. Then he was in her again, fucking her hard, uncaring that she was already tighter post orgasm. "I have to make sure you get your fill of me."

"Oh gods," Ingun moaned as she held onto the table. She was peaking again already. Her orgasm ran through her body, leaving her feeling weak and boneless.

And still Mercer didn't stop.

She was rolled onto her side, her left leg held up high in the air. Mercer's hand held her ankle to keep her from moving away as he thrust into her over and over. Ingun had no idea how he was maintaining for so long, but she was starting to hurt from how long and violently he had been slamming into her. She arched into his form as a third hard orgasm crashed through her again.

"Please, please stop, please," Ingun cried, tearing running down her cheeks. It felt so good, but it hurt so damn much too. She wasn't sure she could deal with another forced orgasm. "I'll do anything you want, but only if you'll stop."

"Anything?" Mercer paused, his voice amused.

"Anything," Ingun nodded. "Please."

The Nord slid to the ground as Mercer withdrew from her. She panted wearily as she leaned against one of the table's chairs that had been knocked over during their coupling. The area between her legs throbbed painfully from Mercer's attentions and the intense orgasms she had endured.

An invisible hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at the ceiling. Before she could ask what Mercer was doing, she heard his breathing quicken. A squirt of semen appeared in the air before it landed on her face. She squealed in surprise and humiliation as it ran down her cheek and partly into her mouth.

As Ingun wiped away the mess, Mercer finally shimmered into view. He had already tucked himself back into his pants and not a hair looked out of place. For a second, Ingun hated him, the smug bastard. But another part of her had to admit that she as even further intrigued by him. No one else would dare to even think of what he had done to her, much less try it. Only Mercer Frey would have had the gall to assault her.

And despite the pain between her legs, there was a twinge of interest at the possibility of this happening again.

Mercer smirked as he crouched by Ingun while she licked at the spunk clinging to the side of her mouth. He ran his fingers through her sweat soaked hair, almost gently after how he had fucked her. "I hope you learned your lesson, my dear," he taunted.

"Maybe," she whispered, her voice husky. "Sometimes I'm a slow learner."

"I'm not a patient teacher," Mercer snarled, but his grey eyes looked amused at her impertinence. He ran his fingers along her collar bone. "There something I want you to do. I am in need of your expertise in potions."

"Is that so?" Ingun asked. She hated to admit it, but she was thrilled at his request. No one had ever asked for her specifically before when they needed something from the shop.

"Yes," Mercer grinned evilly. "I want you to make more of that potion you used on me during New Life Day. Then I want you to tell me everything you know about Maven's everyday life at Mistveil Palace. I'm going to teach her a lesson next."


End file.
